


Below his Collar

by kettlepillow



Category: The Terror (TV 2018), The Terror - Dan Simmons, The Terror - Fandom
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Fix-It, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, M/M, Military Kink, Pining, Porn with Feelings, Possessive Behavior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 14:45:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16976550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kettlepillow/pseuds/kettlepillow
Summary: After their return to London, Francis gets jealous when he finds out that James is not alone in his chambers.





	Below his Collar

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lafiametta](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lafiametta/gifts).



Captain Francis Crozier made his way up the stairs of Hillview manor. It was a chilly autumn day just outside London, but Crozier did not feel the cold. Not anymore. Not after six years trapped in Arctic winter. Even the harshest British winters felt like summers' soft kiss to him.

He was dressed in his best civilian clothes. Only four weeks after returning from eternal ice, he sometimes still caught himself fixing a beret that he no longer wore. Being home took some getting used to.

As Crozier knocked on the heavy wooden door, he felt his heart beat fast beneath his ribs.  
What if he did not care to meet again after all the horror was over now? What if he wanted to forget? Needed to move on from the terror… Quite literally?

An old man with a hunched back and tail coat opened the door and gave the other man a measured look.  
“How can I help you, Sir?”

“Good evening. I know it is quite late.” Crozier took of his hood. “My name is Francis Crozier, I would like to speak to Captain Fitzjames.”  
The old servant’s eyes widened, as he bowed forward impossibly further.  
“Captain Crozier, Sir. I read everything about your journey in the-“He stopped himself, suddenly remembering his position. “Apologies, Sir. Please step inside.”

Crozier only gave an amused nod before entering the large entrance hall. The marble floor shone just like Arctic ice under his polished boots.  
As the prize they had taken from their adventure had been nothing but their lives, something else must’ve paid for this enormous new home of James’. Likely the Admiralty, thought Crozier.

“Captain Crozier, Sir. Would you like to take some tea in the guest salon for now?” Asked the hunchbacked as he hanged his coat.

“I had hoped to take tea with Captain Fitzjames.” The irritation in his voice was clear.  
As they walked on into the guest salon, the servant began to fidget slightly.

“I’m afraid my master is not yet available, Sir.” He offered Crozier a seat and served him tea and biscuits.  
Crozier’s biscuit stopped mid-air to his mouth. He felt suspicion rising.

“What on earth is he up to at nine in the evening? Has he already reclaimed his place in society? A ball? Theatre?”  
Silence.  
“Will you not tell me?”  
Fearfully the other man whispered  
“I cannot, Sir. I am truly sorry.”

“You are sorry?” Crozier put down the biscuit and some of his old spirits seemed to resurface at such ill-mannered behaviour. “I am still a Captain of her Majesty’s navy. What could possibly be so harsh that it cannot reach my ears, man?”

Suddenly there came a voice from the room over the salon. It was muffled. Then a shuffle and a high noise of agony.

Crozier was on his feet at once.  
He bolted for the door and took the stairs with ease. The old servant struggled to follow. His voice sounded desperate as he pleaded.

“Sir! I must warn you, tell you…”  
At the top of the broad stairs, Crozier took pity and waited for him to catch up.  
He grabbed the older man by the shoulders and gazed at him with intent.  
“Speak, then!”  
Two gulps of air later the reply was pressed from fluttering lungs.  
“Master Fitzjames is” Another shaky breath, his voice a mere huff “He is bedding a young Lady as we speak.”

Crozier felt like he had last felt in the Arctic: All blood drawn from his limbs. Numb and struggling to stand upright for a heartbeat. He let go of the servant and pinched the bridge of his nose. He craved Whiskey for the first time in nearly half a decade.  
Slowly a smirk appeared on his face. He sank down into an armchair nearby. His smirk became a deep chuckle.  
“Of course he is.”  
“Pardon?”  
“I shall wait here for his appearance. Return to your duties.”  
Uncertain the old man bowed and descended the stairs, not without giving the Captain another guilty look. 

 

Some time passed until finally the large wing door at the end of the corridor opened a crack and a young woman hurried past Crozier and out of the front door.  
Crozier got up slowly, straightened his waistcoat and opened the same door again without knocking.  
He had thought for some time about the moment they would see each other again. After years in close quarters, four weeks had felt rather long.  
The light was low and the whole room smelled of fine herbs and bathing water.

“Anne, did you forget something?”  
The man at the end of the room was wearing only breaches and a shirt so thin, it was almost translucent. He faced a mirror, trying to fix his wavy hair.  
Suddenly Crozier had forgotten his initial temper.

“Good evening, James. I apologize. The door was open.”

Captain James Fitzjames dropped his comb and was momentarily frozen.  
The air was so thick with tension Crozier could taste it.  
Slowly the younger man turned to face him.

“Francis?” He narrowed his eyes.  
“Aye.”  
“What-?”  
His gaze wandered over Francis like he had never seen him before.

“I thought, I should make sure you are all well.”  
James inched forward to pick up the comb without taking his eyes from the visitor.

“I am. Thank you for your concern.” He said in a low voice.  
“I could hear that.” 

James involuntarily turned as crimson as the carpet and sank onto a stool. Francis didn’t wait to be offered one. There was wine and chocolates on the table. He pursed his lips.

“I am quite well, myself. Thank you.” Said he with mild sarcasm and tried to focus on anything but the wine.  
James took a deep breath before he looked up again at his friend.

“Six years is a very long time, Francis.”  
His baritone made Francis clench his yaw. He heard it in his darkest dreams. Screaming in pain, or sobbing in sorrow. Now it was mellow and close and he wanted to release all his tears of relief right there, but couldn’t.

“Six years without the affection of another human being. The deepest - Christ… Why am I even talking to you in my bedroom?” There was defeat in every word as he closed his eyes for a moment.

“No, please. Go on. Deepest…? What?”  
“Don’t act like you didn’t crave it, Francis. Like you wouldn’t have traded your last Whiskey to replace your own hand with a hot mouth, for once. After years of facing the same brutal conditions every day!”  
Dumbfounded, the older man regarded his friend.

“Of course I did. I am not blaming you for anything, James.”  
James wiped a palm over his face. He had not changed in all that time, thought Francis. He was still the same handsome bachelor who left London to conquer the north. He was just utterly broken, like Francis himself.

“Then why do you seem so surprised?” James asked.  
Francis lowered his eyes to his own fingernails, trying to find the right words, if there were any.  
“I must admit that I did not expect you to” He played with the hem of his cuffs. “to show an interest in young women.”

The fireplace seemed to radiate more heat than before.  
“Is the emphasis of your statement on ‘young’ or ‘women’?”  
Francis did not care to answer that.

When he eventually met James’ eyes again, there was the answer between them. Francis tried to memorize all of the lines on that face, the almost shoulder long waves of brown hair. The remains of hard muscle under a shirt barely covering his collarbones, which rose and fell steadily as James waited.

“I-“ He struggled. “I would like to change my last sentence. I was certain that young women would show interest in you. I just hoped you would not return it.”  
James did not move a muscle before he sputtered in disbelief.  
“Francis.”  
“I swear I am not drunk.” Francis began to stand in a hurry. “I should probably leave now. I have no excuse. Please forgive me.”

Long fingers curled around his wrist.  
“Francis.”  
He turned.  
“James.” The older man sounded pained saying the name.  
Captain Fitzjames had lowered his head sideways to look his friend in the eyes, who had them averted in something like shame.

“Please.” There came the baritone again. Closer than ever, right by Francis’ ear. His wrist was still in his grip.  
He exhaled.  
“Please, tell me.”

Francis’ eyes were tightly shut as he admitted to himself that the game of charades and disguise had come to an end now. With the other Captain’s breath ghosting over his heated skin, there was no way to go but onwards.

“I was jealous.” He managed. “I was even jealous of the ship’s dog for having your affection. And now I entered your home to hear…” He spoke into James’s lowered ear, and it was the most intimate thing he had ever experienced. “I thought of the things you would likely do. Your touch-starved self being embraced in passion. Even though I had no right whatsoever, I wanted to be in that…position. I wanted to claim you for myself.”  
James lips parted in surprise. His fingers began to wander over the waistcoat. Francis did not dare to move.

“What if.” There was mirth in his tone. “What if I wanted you to?”  
A strangled sound escaped the older man and he was reduced to simply reacting to James’ testing lips ghosting over his own.  
“Oh God.”  
“James.” Corrected James  
and kissed him.

The kiss was short and breathless. A quick swirl of a wet tongue gave Francis a foretaste of what he could expect. Then there was only hard breathing. Both men came to terms with their arousal.  
“Show me.” It was a plea.

James lowered the flimsy shirt over his broad shoulders. Holding the other man’s wrist still, he placed Francis’ open palm over his heart.  
His eyes were slightly wet at the mere touch.  
“This.” He looked down his chest. “It beats this fast for you… Captain.”

Slowly, Francis palm slid down, over the breaches, reaching the heavy bulge there.  
He raised a brow.  
“Standing to attention, Sir.” James bit his lip. A considerable flush had spread over his entire body.  
“Again already? You’re either younger than I thought or more desperate than I thought.”  
“What about yourself, Francis?” He smirked.

Suddenly the mood changed and Francis became very aware of his lack of experience despite his age. Fumbling as a boy with other boys hardly of age, followed by many years of nothing.  
Somehow they ended up sitting side by side on the bed and Francis’ had yet to speak out about what he felt.  
He got rid of the waistcoat and shirt silently.  
Looking up again, he noticed that James marvelled at the sight of him and something heavy lifted from his soul.  
He reached for James’ hand and placed it right above his heart.

“This.” He caressed James’ hand in an effort to calm himself. “It’s heavy and black and some say it’s more stone than flesh but…I know for a fact that it beats only for and because of you.”

James’ brows shot to his hairline. His face crumbled slightly.  
“You mean that, don't you?” He whispered.

Almost absently, Francis began to caress the exposed collar bones. Slowly, he got rid of the light shirt and moved on to James’ breaches. As James’ leaking erection lay in his palm, he abandoned all rational thoughts and allowed himself to stare. To feel the hot ache building within himself and the water gathering in his mouth.  
James gasped as they moved further onto the bed. Francis crawling up after him like a starved predator.  
His boots hit the floor hard, right next to the rest of his garments and all he wore then, was a dark gaze.

“You really are a force of nature yourself, no?” Said James cupping the familiar face in his hand.  
“If that is true, then you are Poseidon or Zeus himself. Because you utterly possess me.”  
They kissed and breathed the same air.

“You’re so beautiful.” Murmured Francis, who had finally given up all stiff mannerism. “I don’t think-“  
“Then don’t think.” Said James.  
Francis looked at him. And the dark brown eyes he found were soft and forgiving and warm.

“I have never made love, you know? I did fuck women. But with you…” He felt shy like a boy. “With you I would like to try.”  
James once again was almost overwhelmed by this new sensation of intimacy between them.  
He nipped at the Captain’s jaw.

“Make love to me, Francis.”  
Slowly, almost careful, as if his lover was made from hot glass, Francis lowered himself between James’ legs who opened them further as if to confirm all his fantasies at once. He clearly expected to be taken without much caution. So, when Francis slid away further and smoothed his rough hands over James’ flushed ass, the realization wrung a moan from him.

“Are you-? Francis you don’t have to. I-“  
“A few years ago, you told me to kiss your ass, remember? It is only proper if I do as my fellow Captain wishes.”

The first touch of Francis’ mouth against his soft behind, almost sent James over the edge. He was fluttering, struggling not to grind against the intrusion. Head thrown back in agony, he willed his hands to stay away from his leaking cock. He wanted to endure. Wanted to savour the all-consuming want.  
Hot breath waved over his heavy sack and he wished to cry. A whimper escaped his wet, parted lips.  
Francis loved it, even hummed encouragingly.

There was no holding back when finally. Finally. The tongue was replaced with the head of Francis’ cock. Leaking over his crack and mixing with saliva. It was all he had ever wanted.  
James’ ground down hard and gazed at the older man with wide eyes.  
“Yes! Oh God, yes! Francis. Sir! Captain, please!” 

“I knew you were made for this, James. Look at you. Completely gone. Just beauty and arousal.”  
James was incapable to respond.

“I won’t last too long.” Sweat was dripping. Ever so slowly, he inched into the younger man’s eagerly waiting hole. Drawing him in further. They both gasped while James held back a sob.  
“Let me hear you, darlin’. Let me hear how good you feel.”

James’ breath hitched as Francis started to slowly set a pace.  
“Am I hurting you?”  
James shook his head.  
“ ‘S good. Hurts good.”

Every deep shove was a soft “yes” drawn from his lungs. Gone was the baritone. True bliss sounded closer to maiden than man, it seemed. Francis found the spot deep within him and watched James expose his long neck as he gasped.  
His eyes were shut, hands balled to fists, ankles closed around his lovers back. 

Francis breathed steadily into the smooth hollow of his neck. Still trying to fathom the fact that he was bedding the one man who counted. The one he felt for. He tried to savour the feeling of being inside him. Every pulsing nerve on fire. There was a wet sound every time he pulled out. It sounded loud in his ears. The combination of the man beneath him gasping softly and their bodies colliding loudly was perfect. It got him slowly closer to extasy. 

“Obviously I won’t get you pregnant but I still want to ask-“ He paused as James clenched his muscles around the length inside him, as if to answer the unfinished question.  
“Come inside me.” Came James’ voice.  
His insides were now finding their own rhythm to stimulate them. James was moving himself, measured and fast.  
“Give me what you got.”  
Yes. With a moan he plunged inside the waiting channel, James taking it more in a rigidity of tolerance than actively, as his whole body was pressed down by the man who had finally claimed him. James’ own semen painted both their skin. Francis rode it out. His body was determined to make it last. James shuddered as he retreated, feeling the come beneath him.  
They kissed sloppy and exhausted before resting side by side, at last.

“Are you alright?” Francis leaned over with concern in his eyes.  
James was already half asleep.  
“Yes, Sir.”  
Francis had never felt this amount of bliss before.

“Are you coming for dinner next Sunday?” The younger man cracked an eye open.  
“What do you mean? I have to leave?”  
“Do you want to stay? People will talk.”  
“Let them. We came back from hell. This is the closest we will ever get to heaven.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic for this pairing and fandom.  
> Any feedback is very much appreciated.
> 
> Find me on Tumblr:  
> theanisplanet.tumblr.com


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